Where Monsters Lie
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'There was a story, always a story, and she was only here temporarily, but she wanted to know his, wanted to invest in his. And hadn't she just discussed yesterday with Decker that fraternizing with fellow recruits was a bad thing' AU for 8x15, 'Fidelis Ad Mortem'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is completely AU and perhaps a bit of a mess...**

* * *

 _"The temptation is going to be to remain stoic in the face of adversity, to lock up your emotions so as not to appear weak. That is a mistake. Avoid that temptation at all costs. Trust me. I have been at the edge of that map and monsters lie there."_

 _-Kate Beckett_

* * *

Captain Beckett strolls into the training room with her head cocked in interest, watching the male recruit attack the mannequin that wavers with the force of his punches, the strength of his kicks. He's drenched in sweat, the grey fabric of his t-shirt sheer and plastered to his skin, his hair dripping with his efforts, trickling down the sides of his face, into his eyes. He's been at this for a while, that much is clear, and she furrows her brow when he punishes the mannequin with another round of beatings despite the visible exhaustion in the swing of his fist, the slight stagger in his step.

"Need something, Captain?" he calls out, refusing to tear his gaze from the dummy fighting to stay upright. "Or did you just stop by to enjoy the view?"

Recruit Officer Castle tosses a charming smile her way, one that she assumes gets him what he wants more often than not, but Beckett doesn't return the confident grin. It's his defense mechanism that she's picked up on after a steady week of 'teaching' alongside Sergeant Ortiz, after finding Castle here for the last four days in a row. She's technically undercover, searching through the flock of recruits for a murderer, and she doesn't necessarily suspect Officer Castle, but it's her job to investigate him nonetheless.

That, and after a week of observing him, sharing small talk that is kept to a minimum, she can admit that he intrigues her in a way no one else has in years. He hides behind his good looks, the dazzling façade that has a majority of the female recruits swooning, but there's more to the forty-four-year-old former mystery novelist with no prior police training who is currently at the top of his class.

There was a story, always a story, and she was only here temporarily, but she wanted to know his, wanted to invest in his. And hadn't she just discussed yesterday with Decker that fraternizing with fellow recruits was a bad thing?

Not that he was _her_ fellow recruit, nor did she intend to fraternize with him. Most definitely not.

"Well, I'd intended to come ask how you were holding up after the death of a fellow recruit," Beckett responds, stepping onto the mat. "But then I noticed how poor your combat skills are, so I thought I might offer my advice."

"Am I allowed to pass?" Castle quips, tipping his head back and sucking in a deep breath that has his chest expanding.

"Not really," she returns, hooking her arm around the dummy's neck and kicking it away once it's down. "A mannequin doesn't resist arrest. If it did, you would have been in a lot of trouble by now."

"Look, I know you're just here to interrogate me about Bardeau," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and squaring his jaw. Gone is the man with the killer smile and smoldering eyes, a hardened, stoic version in his place, and that is the side of this recruit that she wants to understand. A side she can recognize. "And I can assure you right now that I know nothing about it. Like I told you last time you asked, I mind my own business around here."

"Really? No bonds with any of your fellow recruits, no nights out for karaoke or drinking-"

"I'm here with a purpose, making friends isn't part of that," Castle snaps, prepared to glide past her to retrieve the disposed mannequin but Beckett moves to stand in his way, watching his nostrils flare in response.

"I'm curious to what that purpose is."

"Why not just go read my file?" he inquires, quirking his brow at her. "I read yours. We have quite a bit in common. Wrongful death of a parent can be one hell of a motivator, huh?"

His eyes flicker to the toes of his athletic shoes, some of that challenge fire fading from his eyes, and Kate swallows at the pain she can so clearly identify spreading through his features, claiming the dull blue irises. She had studied each recruit's file, he knew that, but he couldn't know how she had lingered on his, how she had dug up his mother's case file in the archives, searched for the incident on the internet, studied the material late into the night.

Martha Rodgers, killed in a bank explosion she remembers hearing about on the news a few years ago. The killers who had orchestrated the plan were never identified. Instead, their presumed remains had been found on site, leaving Richard Castle with resolution but no closure.

"What is it you hope to accomplish here, Castle?" she questions, noticing him flinch at his name.

"I go by Rick Rodgers now," he informs her. "Castle is done."

Her heart crumbles just a little at that, because she had met Richard Castle once before, back when he was a bestselling author, using that same smile he had shown her earlier to charm every woman who had shown up at his hundreds of book signings, including her.

She had been a fan, but Derrick Storm was dead now, and apparently, so was Richard Castle.

"You changed it back?" she inquires, refusing to soften her voice for him despite how badly she wants to.

"It's still being legally processed," he nods, rubbing at the back of his neck, swiping the sweat that clings to his palm on the fabric of his pants. "But yeah, my daughter, Alexis, and I are both going through with the name change in her honor."

"Daughter?" Beckett blurts, biting her lip after the syllables have already slipped past, but Castle doesn't waver.

She'd had no idea he had a daughter.

"She moved to LA not long after Mother's death. My grief was too… I was ruining her."

Oh, she really wants to comfort him, to assure him that she understands better than he can imagine, but instead, Beckett fists her hands at her sides.

"Do you remember what I said in class the other day? About the temptation to remain stoic in the face of adversity, about how locking up your emotions so as not to appear weak is a mistake?" she asks, reciting words from her previous lecture, but Castle shakes his head at her, shutting her out.

"Are you going to correct my combat skills or what?"

Beckett plays it off with indifference, shrugs despite how far towards the edge of that map she can see him drifting, and stands in the middle of the mat, raising her hands behind her head in the standard arrest procedure.

"Try to take me in, Cas- Rodgers," she states, awaiting the presence of his body behind hers, bracing for the touch of his broad hands to her wrists, securing them behind her back. Beckett allows him a matter of seconds before she slides her hand from beneath his hold, maneuvering out of his grasp, his control, and spinning them around.

She knocks his feet out from under him, listens to him grunt as he lands on his knees, but Rick rises without preamble, not a hint of frustration on his face once he's in front of her again.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Let me try again," Castle murmurs, his voice heavy with concentration, and she sighs, turns back around, hands behind her head, and waits.

Again, she doesn't resist the restrain of her arms cuffed behind her until he thinks he has her, his grip on her wrists loosening by just a fraction, and then she breaks the hold for a second time, using her grip on his arm to flip him forward.

Beckett stands over him when he remains on flat on his back after a couple of seconds, catching his breath and wincing at the pull of a muscle in his back, staring down at him with one of her eyebrows arched.

"Okay, fine, suggest away," he relents, ignoring the hand she offers to him and forcing himself to his feet without assistance.

Kate stands with her hands behind her back, instructs him to resume his position. "You're relying too much on your brute strength to hold me in place when you should focus on stabilizing your center of gravity."

She walks him through the procedure, demonstrates on him once before allowing Castle to yank her arm back, send her tumbling to the ground with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. The momentum rolls her back to her feet, too quickly for Castle to offer his hand, but she catches a glimpse of his arm outstretched in preparation and it urges her lips to flicker upwards.

"Quick learner," she compliments, grinning when something akin to a real smile threatens to lace along his lips, but he bites it back, swallows it down.

"Thanks for the help, Captain," he states with a polite smile instead. "But I can take it from here."

"You've been at it for hours, day after day," Beckett points out, receiving no answer and snagging Castle by the arm before he can attempt to grab the mannequin again. "I get it, I do, but overworking your body like this is liable to do more harm than good, Rick."

He notices the way his first name falls from her lips, but he pretends not to – for her sake or his own, she isn't sure – and narrows his eyes on her.

"I'm in a group of twenty year olds here. I'm older, less experienced, and that means I have to work that much harder unless I want to end up working mall security," he argues, his lips pursing to form a tight line.

"You never answered my question," she deflects, withdrawing her hand from his arm, ignoring the stupid sparks of electricity fizzling through her fingertips. It's all in her head, has to be. "What is your actual purpose for being here?"

"My mother was killed," he growls, his chest puffing with the harsh intake of breath, his jaw squaring with the words, sharpening the prominent angle of bone. "She didn't die in the explosion, Beckett. We were hostages first and she was the last one they killed, right in front of me, and I - it should have been me."

The confession seems to surprise him, his eyes rippling, wide in a heart-wrenching mixture of realization and devastation.

"No," she argues softly. "No, Rodgers, that's not-"

"It should have been me. Not her," he breathes, scraping a hand through his hair and pacing away from her. She doesn't stop him this time when he drags the mannequin from the floor, positioning it back and upright on the mat and taking a rough swing, his knuckles colliding with the hard chest. "I should have been able to protect her, to stop them. Done something, I should have done something."

He doesn't cry, but his chest stutters, his arm shaking as he draws it back.

"Rick," she tries again, drifting in closer, but keeping her distance.

"I couldn't write anymore after she died, I couldn't - I had to do _something_ , Beckett. I just wanted - to make a difference," he chokes out, his fist slamming into the mannequin once more with a loud smack, and Kate finally steps in, places her hand atop the tape covering his knuckles before he can beat his bones raw. "I could have-"

"No," she murmurs, catching his gaze and clinging to it, willing him to see. "I'm not patronizing you when I say I know how you're feeling right now. I've been there. Gone over every 'what if' scenario imaginable, but no matter how many times I changed the outcome in my head, there's no changing the reality."

Castle drops his hands to his sides, sways a little on the spot as if he may stagger to his knees at any moment, and Beckett steadies him with her hands at his sides, her fingers fitting between the spaces of his ribs.

"My - my mother was murdered, Rick," she begins with the information he already knows, inhaling a slow breath through her nose to keep any emotions threatening to rise at bay, especially when he looks down at her with so much agony staining his eyes, sorrow carving out a frown along his lips. "Stabbed to death in an alley and left there like garbage, and when I got into the Academy, all I could think about was graduating so I could find her killer, find the justice she deserved."

"And you did," he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching, dispelling some of his anguish. "Saw it on the news last year, you escorting Senator Bracken into a cop car. Pretty badass, Captain."

Beckett lowers her hands from his torso. "It took me a long time to achieve that, an even longer time to feel even close to okay. Sometimes I don't even think-" She sighs, shakes her head. "We'll never be completely okay, Rodgers. That hole our mothers left will always be there, painful and irreversible, but I can promise you that one day, it'll be a little less raw. One day, it won't hurt so much."

Castle nods, sucks in another shaky breath and averts his eyes to the ceiling for a handful of seconds. She allows him the moment to collect himself before she reaches for his dominant hand, watches him wince at her touch.

"In the meantime, physically hurting yourself accomplishes nothing."

"I have to admit, times like these make me wish I would have stuck to writing," he mutters, hissing when she applies to gentlest of pressure to one of his knuckles with her thumb.

Beckett sighs and nods towards the nearby locker rooms, picking up a cup of ice from the cooler behind the table lined with water bottles, and walking with him into the changing room where they take a seat on the closest bench.

"You could still write, you know," she muses, acquiring his hand once more and gingerly removing the tape, cringing at the sight of his knuckles swollen and blooming with color. "It's just as beneficial as what you're doing now."

Castle scoffs and then whines a complaint when she places the small hand towel filled with ice atop his knuckles. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, that whole 'the pen is mightier than the sword' saying isn't always wrong," she defends, earning a quirk of his brow for it.

"You're actually saying writing could be better than getting out there on the streets, taking down bad guys and making this city safer?" he questions, teasing, yet his eyes beseech her, desperate for an honest answer.

"I'm saying that becoming a cop is not the only way to help people, including yourself," she explains carefully, folding her legs beneath her on the slim bench, balancing their tangle of hands on her crossed ankles. "After my mom died, yeah, I threw myself into training, but I also read a lot. There was this mystery novelist and in his books, the good guys always won, justice was always served, and I knew it was fiction, but it made me more hopeful and I _needed_ that."

The hardened lines of his face soften and his fingers flutter against her palm. "Saying I should drop out, Captain?"

"Definitely not, you're too good for that," she murmurs with a smirk, and she should really give his hand back, he can hold his own ice, but his fingertips are touching her wrist, resting along the line of her pulse, and – and just a few more seconds. "Just know that you have options and that I believe your mother, along with your daughter, would want you to do what you felt was best for you. They'd want you to be happy."

Castle nods, his adam's apple bobbing, and glances up to her with some of the grief that inhabits his eyes draining, allowing enough room for the bright blue spread of curiosity.

"How long will you be here?"

"Until I find what I'm looking for," she states, breathing a silent sigh of relief when knowledge sparks in his gaze.

"I'm more than willing to help in any way possible," he offers, determination flaring through his features, and Beckett squeezes his wrist in thanks as she unfurls her legs from beneath her, releases his hand and ensures he has his grip on the ice before she moves to stand. "And - and what about after you've found it? Then what?"

Kate chews on her bottom lip, her hands still frigid from the ice but beginning to perspire with indecision.

"Then I'll let you know," she murmurs, her breath catching in her lungs as Castle stands too, his hand cradling the ice to his opposite knuckles, but his eyes intent on her. He makes no move towards her, though, his gaze is gleaming with admiration, the same shimmer of intrigue she had felt for him, still feels where he is concerned, and maybe something more, something she yearns to explore despite herself. "And for the record? I'm glad it wasn't you."

She turns to go, leave him with what she hopes are words of comfort, encouragement, but he calls out to her before she can reach the locker room's exit.

"Kate?"

She pauses at the use of her first name, turns just in time for Castle to step into her, wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulders that she could easily break free of. Her spine goes stiff, but he's simply giving her a hug, gratitude spilling from his frame into hers, and it's against protocol, this entire meeting is _so_ against protocol, but Kate returns his embrace.

It lasts for only a moment before he's pulling away, his arms falling back, the warmth of his hands and the chill of the ice grazing her sides as they go, and she grins as the tips of his ears shine with color.

"Sorry, that was - it's just been a long time since anyone has-"

"I know," she cuts him off, reaching forward to skim her fingertips along the neck of his t-shirt, pretending to adjust the loose collar. "While I'm here, though, we keep any form of contact to a minimum."

"Of course," he concurs without hesitation, that lopsided smile that she's beginning to recognize as genuine spreading across his lips for her. "But after…"

"We'll see," Beckett muses, withdrawing her hand from his shirt and nodding towards the bruised knuckles. "Take care of that."

"Will do." She starts towards the door for a second time, halfway out when his voice follows her with a question. "Will you tell me who that mystery novelist was? The one whose work helped you? I just - I wondered if I knew him."

The smile breaches her lips and Kate doesn't stop walking, but glances back over her shoulder to let him see it. "You'll find out soon enough."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For those who wanted a second chapter, thank you for your support and enthusiasm. I truly hope this lives up to your expectations.**

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The evening air is cool, the breeze caressing the exposed skin of her calves, her knees, a pleasant reprieve from the stifling summer heat that engulfs the days. Kate tilts her chin upwards, turns her face towards the kiss of the wind and lets it tangle through her curls. The ceremony had ended nearly twenty minutes ago, but no way could they be seen together, and she wanted him to take his time, enjoy the celebration inside the stadium despite how he's spent the entire length of his training in solidarity.

Well, until she had come along, broken through his walls and her own.

Castle emerges from the entrance to Madison Square Garden in his dress blues, polished shoes and white gloves, the stiff hat – fully in uniform. Kate had attended the graduation as a proud captain, congratulating each recruit on this milestone in their rise through the ranks, and despite their months of communication, she had been forced to congratulate Recruit Officer Rick Rodgers with nothing more than the customary handshake and friendly smile.

But he knew she would reward him with a proper congratulatory greeting afterwards, when they were no longer surrounded by watchful eyes and the threat of disapproval. To their credit, though, their relationship was still within the boundaries of a friendship, completely platonic and nothing more, but Kate was aware that Castle wanted more.

She does too. Oh, she so badly wants more.

Confetti still clings to his shoulder, his smile tentative and growing as he notices her waiting for him by her cruiser down the street, and Castle jogs towards her, glancing over his shoulder before he reaches her. Kate stifles her smile against his cheek, her laughter against his neck, as he bands his arms around her waist, practically lifts her from the ground with his embrace.

"Looking good, Recruit," she grins once he's set her down, plucking the blue and white paper from his shoulder and ignoring the warm weight of his hands on her hips. Good is an understatement, really. The uniforms fits him well, sparks to life the mercurial shade of blue in his eyes, accentuates the handsome features of his face, the gleam of his smile as he beams at her for the compliment.

"Have I done you proud, Captain?" he quips, one of his hands abandoning her waist to brush a stray curl behind her ear, the graze of his thumb heating the cool shell, but she's sincere when she leans in once more, her arms around his neck and her lips at his ear.

"I'm so proud of you," she murmurs, stroking her fingers through the baby fine hairs at the base of his skull, just beneath his cap, and feeling his body relax, list into hers.

She's never been good with words, not when they aren't for a conference with 1PP or orders being given to the members of her precinct. He had been the writer, but despite how skilled he is with sentences and storylines, she's learned within the past three months that he sometimes needs the reassurances, the encouragement, the sincerity. He needed someone to believe in him and she was more than happy to be that person.

He made the role all too easy to fill.

Castle dusts a kiss to the bone of her cheek before he straightens up, takes a step back, much to her disapproval, but they are in public, mere feet away from a stadium full of both their superiors.

"Want to get out of here?" Castle asks, his brow quirking, and Kate discretely twines their fingers, bites her bottom lip to subdue her smile, but she snags her answer with her teeth before it can break free at the strike of realization flaring to life in her mind.

"Wait, what about Alexis? Did she…" The shake of Castle's head breaks her heart, the sad attempt at a smile he musters leaving it in disrepair and aching for him.

"It's okay, Kate. Really. She wanted to come, she did," he assures her, but that smile on his lips is falling away, straining to stay in place, trying to convince them both. "She's just busy. She has a life in California and-"

"But you're her father," Kate points out softly, in no way trying to attack his daughter, but she was disappointed in the girl. She herself had spoken with Alexis just a few days ago, and the college student had sworn she would be here.

"Not for the last few years, I wasn't. Not really," he shrugs, but he's glancing to her car, the urge to end this conversation evident.

"We're not done talking about this," she states, poking him in the chest with her index finger. "But since it's a special night for you, I'll leave it alone for now."

"Thank you for showing me such mercy, Captain Beckett," he chuckles, sparing another glance backwards before bringing their tangled hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Now, can we leave?"

She sighs and withdraws her hand, ignores the spread of warmth through her bones and shoves him towards the passenger side of the car. More uniformed recruits, newborn rookies, are beginning to spill from the center as she slips inside the driver's seat, some headed to an after party she'd heard a few of the graduates discussing, others on their way home.

"Sure you don't want to go party the night away?"

Castle narrows his gaze on her and she purses her lips to hold back the laugh. "Do we really need to discuss why I would choose partying with kids half my age over partying with you?"

"Who said you and I are partying, Rodgers?" she scoffs, starting the engine and pulling out into traffic, driving in the opposite direction of the center, down 8th Avenue.

"Well, there has to be some sort of celebration on the agenda," he muses, buckling his seat belt and removing the hat from his head, combing his fingers through his hair. "And since it is considered a violation for you and I to be spending personal time together, I'm going to assume this celebration is happening in private. Am I finally going to see the inside of your apartment, Captain?"

Kate rolls her eyes, but well, he isn't wrong. Their options are limited and it isn't as if she intends for anything to happen in the private space of her apartment. It's just two friends, celebrating an accomplishment, with dinner and wine on her couch.

At least, that was the plan.

"Oh, I'm right, aren't I?" he grins, all too smug as she navigates them through the West Village.

"I have plans," she nods, flexing her fingers along the steering wheel. "It's not necessarily the celebration you deserve, but-"

"Kate," he huffs at her, as if she's being ridiculous, and maybe she is, but she really wishes that she could have done something more special for him than a simple dinner at her apartment.

"If we weren't… if we weren't both involved in the NYPD, I would have taken you out to one of my favorite restaurants for dinner, maybe walked it off with you in a nearby park."

"That sounds like a date," he murmurs, not looking at her, and Beckett is sure to keep her eyes on the road. "How would it end?"

His gaze strays towards her then, but she hesitates, unsure how to answer. Because she knows how it ends, has imagined how it would end an embarrassing amount of times, and they can't… they just can't.

"Didn't think that far ahead," she says instead, throwing in a shrug for emphasis, but not for a second does she believe that Castle is buying it. "You were the writer, though. How would you end the scene?"

The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. "Sure you want to know?"

No, she should say no.

"Go ahead."

Rick relaxes against the leather seat, folds his hands atop his lap and stares out into the descending sun, the sky alight with fading blues and streaks of pink, and takes a deep breath before he begins.

"The park we walked through would likely be nearby, close enough for us to venture to your apartment on foot, because – being the gentleman I am – I would insist on walking you home." Kate snorts, but he continues on, nothing more than the bloom of his grin to indicate he'd even heard her. "Once we reached your place, we'd both hesitate, but you'd invite me up for coffee and I'd say yes. Could never say no to an offer like that. We'd talk, like always, and it'd be easy. Always easy with you, Kate."

Her stomach has a habit of fluttering, her heart a habit of stumbling in its beats, whenever she's with him, whenever the thin line between them begins to blur, and she has to inhale slowly now, calm the riot of her insides as the low husk of his voice continues to fill the car. He paints the picture with ease, so clearly that she can already see him inside of her apartment, lounging around as if he's been there before, exchanging talk about the job, about themselves, without struggle.

"It's always easy with you too," she returns, her voice light, casual, but she means it. Never has her connection with another person been so effortless. And perhaps it's due to the bond of their broken lives, the mutual loss of their mothers that he had pointed out months ago, but it's become more than that. She thinks it's always been more than that.

"I'd finish my coffee and then I would stall," he continues, causing her lips to quirk. She's familiar with how he often lingers whenever they're together, coercing their late night phone calls or coffee shop meetings to stretch on longer, even once they've both agreed that the time to part ways has come. "Eventually, you'd see me to the door. I'd tell you I had a good time and compliment you again."

"Again?"

"I'm imagining you dressed as you are now in this little scene and you're gorgeous, Beckett. Can't blame me for becoming repetitive."

She shakes her head and turns onto her street, parks the cruiser in her usual spot in front of her building, and turns off the car. But he hasn't finished the story.

"And then?"

Castle arches his eyebrow at her and reaches for the door handle. "You knew how this story would end before I even started to tell it, Kate."

* * *

Kate Beckett's apartment is both everything and nothing like he expected it to be, but he can so clearly see her in every choice of furniture, every piece of art on the wall or quirky knick-knack that litters her bookshelves within the industrial styled space. He still has so much he hopes to learn about her, hungry for more than the snippets of information he's privileged enough to gather from the minutes they both carve out of their days for innocent phone calls and friendly meet ups across town.

"Make yourself comfortable, dinner will be here in fifteen," she calls from the kitchen, her phone to her ear and a flickering smile on her lips.

Castle nods, but it takes him a second too long to turn away from her, his gaze continuing to linger on the soft curls of her hair, the respectful black turtleneck dress that he manages to find all too alluring in the way it clings to her curves, hides her body and places it on display all at once. He settles down on the comfortable looking sofa in her living room, admires the impressive view of Tribeca from the floor to ceiling windows at his back.

He listens to Kate end the call in the kitchen, glances up moments later to see her approaching with two glasses of red wine.

"This okay?" she inquires, offering the glass to him, and he accepts with a nod of his head.

"Already a much better celebration than any party," he states, smiling at her around the rim of his glass.

Kate chuckles, lowers to the spot beside him and kicks off her heels beneath the coffee table before she curls her legs up beneath her, props her elbow atop the head of the couch.

And drops her phone in his lap.

"Kate."

"Call your daughter."

"I have a phone, you know."

"You suck at using it," she throws back, one of her perfectly groomed eyebrow curving upwards and he huffs, thumbs at the screen of her phone until it flares to life, the keypad of numbers already pulled up and waiting. "Look, I'm not trying to meddle, I just know how much Alexis means to you. I know you'd looked forward to seeing her today."

"I don't want to guilt trip her," he mumbles, swallowing hard as his fingers hover over the screen.

"No, just talk to her. Your daughter's voice should be one you hear on such an important day, Rick."

Castle glances up to her, finds her watching him with empathy shining in her eyes, hope in the flecks of gold, and he hates when she does this to him, even if her gentle coaxing to mend the relationship with his daughter has been somewhat beneficial. It hurts sometimes too, hurts them both, but… but Alexis is worth it. And Kate has known that from the beginning.

"You said you would leave me alone about this tonight," he mutters, dialing his daughter's number and bringing the phone to his ear, but Kate only smirks back at him.

"I said 'for now', meaning the car ride over," she corrects him, tipping her glass to her upturned lips and taking a sip while the line rings in his ear.

"Kate?" his daughter's voice greets and Castle takes a breath, lowers his glass to the coffee table.

"No, Pumpkin. It's me, just using Kate's phone," he explains, a little nervous, and he wishes he wasn't always so anxious to speak to his daughter these days. Wishes it could be easy again, wishes it could be the way it was before his mother had been killed. "I just wanted to call and say hi, hear your voice."

"Oh Daddy," Alexis sighs, threatening to choke him up, calling him that. "I'm so sorry I didn't show today. I wanted to, I-"

"It's okay," he promises her, pressing his elbows to his knees to resist the urge to bounce one of his legs. "I completely understand, Alexis. I do."

"No, it's not enough. You've been trying so hard lately, Dad. And I see that, even though I probably don't tell you enough how much it means to me." Rick cuts his eyes to Kate, aware that she can likely make out most of Alexis's words in the quiet of her apartment, and certain enough to bet that he wasn't the only one Kate has been counseling lately. "I'm flying out first thing tomorrow."

"What? Honey, no, you don't have to-"

"I _want_ to," his daughter insists. "I – I've missed you for a long time. Plus, I got you a graduation present."

The apartment buzzer rings and Kate rises from the couch, her hand brushing his shoulder as she starts for the door, snagging her purse from a table near the entrance before he can offer up his wallet.

"I've missed you too," he murmurs, his heart clenching with the words. "And I can assure you that seeing you will be better than any gift."

Alexis's giggle fills his ear, lifts some of the weight from his chest and infuses it with the joy of eliciting a laugh from his not so little girl. "Are you at least going to celebrate your graduation tonight? Oh, and you have to tell me about the ceremony. Did Kate videotape it? She promised she would videotape you for me."

"She did?" he asks, pleasant surprise swelling in his chest.

"Yeah, I texted her before and told her I couldn't make it, so she promised to videotape on her phone, send me the footage tonight."

"Huh," Castle murmurs, the thought of Kate surreptitiously videotaping him during the ceremony causing warmth to spill through his system. "I'll have to ask her later."

Alexis hums, a sound of intrigue he hasn't heard in a while. "Are you and Captain Beckett celebrating together tonight, Dad?"

"What? No. Well - sort of. We're just having dinner."

"Uh huh," Alexis replies, wholly unconvinced, and Kate seems to sense his slight panic as she pays the delivery guy and shuts the front door, shooting him with a questioning look while she transfers the two bags of takeout to the kitchen. "You know, ever since Kate showed up… you've been better, more like yourself. I - I didn't really like who you became during your time at the Academy."

The confession sucks the joy right out of him. Sure, he had known that his daughter hadn't approved of his idea, had fought him tooth and nail on it, and then punished him with the cold shoulder when he went ahead in joining the Police Academy regardless of her protests, but he hadn't been aware that she hadn't _liked_ her own father.

"You just became so cold, Dad. I know… Gram's death broke us, but sometimes it felt like I had lost you too," she admits on a rushed breath and Castle lifts his eyes to the ceiling, blinks away the hot sting of tears.

"I'm so sorry, Alexis," he breathes, clutching Kate's phone too tight in his hand. "You needed me to be there for you and I wasn't. I would give anything to go back, to be the parent you deserved, but all I can promise you is that I'm trying to be now. I'll do everything I can to fix this because nothing is more important to me than you."

Alexis is silent on the other line, but he hears the muffled sound of a sniffle, a quiet intake of breath. "That's all I need, Dad."

Castle's eyes slide closed in gratitude, relief swirling through his chest. All too easily, his daughter could have decided to shut him down, withhold forgiveness, but she was trying, just as hard as he was, to fix this, to fix them.

"I'm glad you're coming tomorrow, Pumpkin," he sighs, relishing in her gentle laughter filling his ears once more. "But how was today for you?"

Alexis recounts the entirety of her day to him in detail, just like she used to when they lived together, talked every day, and he listens attentively, but allows his eyes to search for Kate every couple of minutes, finding her taking a purposefully long time in the kitchen, distributing what looks to be an Italian themed dinner onto separate plates, retrieving silverware, eventually beginning to do the dishes left in her sink from days past.

"And I was so exhausted from the presentation, that I ended up crashing this morning then slept through my flight," Alexis finishes on a huff and he chuckles, reassures her for the third time that it was fine, not a big deal. And it wasn't. Sure, it had hurt his feelings, looking out into the crowd, hoping for that flash of red hair and swallowing down the disappointment that had swelled each time his searching came up empty, but his daughter hadn't missed his graduation on purpose. And the information definitely lessened the sting.

"I should let you get to dinner, I hope I didn't keep you too long-"

"No, no, I always have more than enough time for you," Castle promises her, his voice earnest, and his daughter sighs softly on the other line.

"Thanks, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too, Alexis." He glances up at the sensation of being watched, not surprised to see Kate's gaze on him, the tender smile on her lips.

"Oh, Dad, before you go, would you mind if I spoke to Kate for just a second?"

His brow hitches but Castle nods despite the fact that Alexis can't see him and rises from the couch, approaching a curious looking Kate in the kitchen.

"Sure, here she is." Rick passes off the phone to her, studies her as she leans back against the nearest countertop and presses the phone to her ear.

"Hey Lex," she greets, and his brow scales higher. _Lex_? Exactly how often did Kate and his daughter chat?

Often enough to have nicknames, apparently.

Usually, the idea of sharing his daughter had him growing defensive, the instinct to protect her from those he was involved with, from her own mother to his last ex-wife, typically arising like an uncontrollable wave, but Alexis having a relationship with Kate… it softened him.

"No, I must have missed it. Yeah, of course I did," Kate chuckles, nodding her head towards the dining table when he meets her eyes, but he shakes his head, taking advantage of this cozy space her kitchen makes, drifting in closer to her. "Mhmm, I'll send it to you for sure. Yep, top of his class." She chews on her upturned bottom lip, teasing the flesh between her teeth, and he should step back. This kind of proximity while she's indulging in a maddening habit centered around her mouth is unquestionably a bad idea. But he doesn't budge. "Me too. Really proud."

Castle raises his hand to her hip, thoughtlessly grazes his knuckles along her side, and watches her ribs expand beneath the fabric of the dress. When he glances up, her eyes are sharp, spearing through him, but the spread of color to her cheeks distracts him, the soft melody of her laughter at something his daughter is saying.

"No, it's… I will, I promise. You too. Bye, Alexis."

Kate lowers the phone from her ear, places it behind her to the surface of the counter he's practically cornered her against.

"Don't do that while I'm on the phone with your kid," she scolds, knocking his hand from the curve of her waist, but the corner of her mouth is still curled into a half smile.

"What did my wonderful kid say to make you blush?" Castle inquires, resisting the urge to touch her again. This is why they had kept contact to a minimum, especially since that training session in the Academy gym all those months ago. Kate Beckett was electric, magnetic, and one touch was never enough.

Kate sidesteps him, plucking the plates of food from the stovetop island at his back and heading for the dining room table, and he huffs at her for the diversion, follows her anyway.

"That bad?"

She scoffs and deposits the plates to the polished wood surface, her back to him. "No, not bad at all. Alexis just thinks… she thinks you and I are good together."

"We are," Castle replies, blurts without thinking, but he won't take it back. Not when it's true.

She doesn't stiffen, doesn't tense or deny him, but he notices her frame tremble with the sigh she releases.

"We are," she confirms, but when she glances to him over her shoulder, it's with sad eyes, her irises murky with melancholy, and he doesn't understand. "But we can't be."

His chest clenches, the thought of everything _we can't be_ entails inducing immediate panic that he struggles to subdue. "Because of the job?"

Kate nods and that helps, dulls the churn of worry in his guts. The job was an obstacle, yes, but if that was her only issue with pursuing this, then he knew how to fix it.

"What if I told you it wouldn't be a problem?" he asks and Kate turns on her bare heel, disapproval already flaring in her eyes.

"No, you are not quitting the force. Not after all you've done-"

"Kate," he murmurs, one hand rising in a placating motion that fuels her fire, has her striding up to him, willing to fight against him, _for_ him.

"No, Rick, you've worked too hard. All those grueling months of training and everything you did for your mom and-"

"I turned down my precinct assignment, backed out of training with my assigned field officer." Kate goes still, her lips parting with an unspoken question while her brow creases deep with confusion. "I - I'd planned to tell you tonight."

"And tell me why?" she states and he nods, shifting under her gentle scrutiny. She isn't judging him, looking so utterly perplexed, but – but God, he just doesn't want to let her down. Not her too.

"I started writing again," he admits, averting his gaze to the dinner likely going cold at her back. "I started spending half of the nights in my room filling page after page in my notebook, nearly sleeping through the alarm every morning. I haven't written like that since… since long before my mother died."

Her eyes soften, a mixture of pride and delight swirling through her gaze, but her lips remain unmoving, her face composed in an indifferent mask made for poker.

"When did it come back to you?" she inquires, but knowledge is settling along the lines of her face like dread. She already knows.

"The night after we trained together. Kind of hard to hold a pen with bruised knuckles, but I made it work."

"Rick," she sighs, but he won't attempt to apologize, won't pretend to regret it, feel ashamed of it. She inspired him and nothing, no one, had been able to do that in years.

"Becoming a cop is still important, it still matters, but writing… the Academy helped me, but that night, I felt better than I had in months, Kate. I - I have enough for a manuscript and my former publisher is willing to look it over, pull a few strings to get me resigned if it's any good," he reveals, subtly wiping the perspiration coating his palms on the sides of his slacks. "But I can't do both. I thought it was a possibility, but to be a cop, I need full commitment. I want to be fully committed to the job and I just don't think I can be anymore. And then you-"

"Me?"

He expects a frown, disappointment or disapproval, maybe even both, but Kate is watching him with eyes that have gone tender once more, with her body moving in closer to him.

"I can't commit to something that won't let me be with you."

His honesty sends ripples through her eyes, a combination of surprise and need that he's never seen before, that steals his breath. The line of Kate's throat bobs with a swallow, a struggle for composure, and she takes another step towards him, the heat of her body permeating his clothes, the yearning to touch her alive in the tips of his fingers, crackling like electricity threatening to combust.

"Writing will make you happier?" she questions, a callback to that first conversation, the first time he realized that his mother would not have necessarily approved of his actions since her death. A conversation that had opened his eyes. "It's what you want?"

Castle nods with certainty.

"Did I ever tell you who the author was, the one who helped me through my mother's death?"

The question throws him off, has his mind scrambling towards a different conversation from that same day over three months ago. How tempted he had been to make a few calls, to try and narrow down whom from Katherine Beckett's library would have made such an impact, but he had never figured it out on his own and she had never revealed the truth.

"No," he murmurs, his brow knit, uncertain how this is at all pertinent, but Kate never mentioned things at random. There was a point to all of this, something important she was leading him towards.

But she's so close, so distractingly close, the subtle hints of her perfume, traces of vanilla and cherries, invading his nostrils, her breasts grazing his chest as her body lists into his, her head tilting upwards with the slight disadvantage in height the loss of her heels has caused her, and her eyes lower from his gaze to his mouth, back again.

"We've met before, you know," she informs him and oh, he's so lost, but her words spark a flare of self-indignation within his chest that mingles with the utter confusion. How the hell could he have met this woman before and have no memory of it?

"We have?"

"On a book tour, for an old Derrick Storm novel. I uh, waited in line to get it signed by you," she confesses, her lips twitching with a soft grin, reminiscent and lovely. "I used to loved those books, I used to turn to them for comfort."

And then it clicks.

"It was _me_?" he gasps, so genuinely shocked that she begins to laugh at him. "Really?"

Kate nods, lifts her fingers to caress the sharp folds of the uniform he still wears, the seal of the badge at his chest, climbing to dust her fingers along the black tie he loosened on the drive to her place.

"No matter what you choose," she murmurs, her touch scaling upwards to graze along his collar until the tips of her fingers connect with bare skin, create a trail of sparks to his jaw. "Writing or the force, you help people, Rick. You helped me."

Words, his specialty, his strength, evade him, leave him speechless; he doesn't know where to begin, how to describe all of the ways _she_ has helped _him_.

"You make me happy," he breathes, circling back to the question that started all of this. "Kate, you - I just want you. More than any of it, I want you-"

Her mouth is hot but soothing over his, searing the surface of his lips and stealing the air from his lungs, like a new discovery and coming home all at once. Castle wraps his arms around her, splays one hand between her shoulder blades, the other at the base of her spine as she rises into the kiss, wrinkles his collar in her grasp and tunnels her fingers through his hair, eliciting fissures of electricity from the surface of his scalp to the tips of his toes. She has ignited him with need, the hum of her moan as he sucks on her bottom lip like gasoline to the fire, the flames steadily consuming him whole.

Her back bumps the dining table, her spine arching into the cove of his body, and Castle breaks away from her mouth to gasp for breath, staining his lips along the slash of her cheek, the cutting angle of her jawbone, and nudging his nose to the neck of her dress as he travels downwards.

"Turtlenecks," he grumbles, nipping at the taut flesh just below her jaw, tightening his arms around her when she hooks her foot at his calf muscle, digs her nails into his shoulders, holding on.

"You - you like it when I wear turtlenecks," she breathes, amusement flickering to life beneath the arousal drenching her words.

"I like knowing you have the proper wardrobe to hide the evidence," he mumbles, smirking against the throbbing pulse of her neck when she manages a chuckle, but Kate is already dipping her head to reclaim his mouth, using the table's edge to lift her body higher, closer, fitting her so intimately, so perfectly, against him.

He isn't sure how or when she unbuttons his suit jacket, but he shrugs the fabric from his shoulders once the edges part, cradles Kate's face in his large palms once it's hit the floor, and moans around the slip of tongue past his lips, the sweet heat of her painting the inside of his mouth with brilliant strokes.

"This is how it ended," she gasps as he hauls her body into his arms, her legs secure around his waist, their hips clashing together and making him dizzy.

"How what ended?" he husks, kissing the corner of her mouth and beginning to walk with her towards the short hallway just off the living room, where he's certain her bedroom lies.

Kate's arms snake around his neck, her fingers returning to tangle in his hair, nails scraping gently along his scalp.

"The story from the car," she whispers the words, lips brushing his as she speaks, erotic and heart throbbing and more than he could have ever hoped for. "Our date."

"Far from the end," Castle murmurs, failing to stop the bloom of his lips against hers, the genuine smile she had resurrected from what he would have sworn was certain death. "Only the beginning."


End file.
